Monday, January 26, 2009

Korean-American Identity Redux

I haven’t been feeling very Korean lately. Well, let me clarify: I haven’t had time to give much thought to “being Korean,” engaging in Korean cultural activities, observing Korean holidays or traditions, or hanging out with Korean people. Other than my mom, that is.

With some regret, I have been too busy these past few months to participate in the Kimchi Mamas community – and have been remiss in writing posts, commenting, or even reading. When Kimchi Mamas first started, I was waaaay into the concept. I felt I had found my tribe – at last – for the first time ever, and hungrily ate up every word that was posted, read every comment on the blog, and found myself deeply engaged in every debate and dialogue that came up. It was a new thing for me, after all: hanging with a group of smart Korean American women, many of whom had similar cultural experiences to mine.

Then I got busy. I changed jobs in Sept. ’07 and this new one was so
demanding that I no longer had time to breathe, let alone blog, any
longer. And that’s how it’s been for the past year and four months.
Until last Friday, when I quit my job, and now join the ranks of the
unemployed. I know it’s probably the worst time in more than a decade
to be unemployed, but I felt compelled to “choose life” over the
soul-crushing assignment that I had endured for more than a year. The
job was causing so much stress that I was neglecting my child, my
husband, and my self. It was no good for anybody, and I am pleased with
my decision.

When I go back to read some of my old posts on KM – many of which deal
with issues of Asian-American (and hapa) identity, I realize how much
I’ve changed, and possibly evolved. No longer do I pine for acceptance
as a “real Korean” by the community of Korean-born people whom I
sometimes encounter. No longer do I feel desperately afraid that, once
Halmoni dies, my hapa (quarter Korean) daughter will no longer have a
connection to “the old country.” I no longer wish to be 100% Korean, or
wish I were born there, so that Koreans will consider me to be
authentic.

The fact is, I have come to be quite happy with who I am -- a hapa
Korean-American woman -- and know that nothing can change that. Most
assuredly, I’ll never be considered a “real Korean” by most Korean-born
people, including my mother, as the definition of such a person has
quite narrow parameters; however, I don’t care! I actually feel more
of a kinship with Barack Obama (a biracial person) than I do with many
Korean Koreans!

My daughter, who’s now old enough to be interested in culture, national
origin, and ethnicity, is proud to say that she’s Korean, Scottish,
Canadian, American, and a Californian. And Halmoni’s omnipresence
in my daughter’s life provides constant exposure to Korean traditions,
foods, and culture -- the exact same stuff I got as a kid.

Don't get me wrong: I do appreciate things Korean and very much want to be connected to my culture and ancestry. In the future, I’d like to make more of an effort to pay attention to
Korean holidays, like Lunar New Year, Chuseok, among others; but that’s
about as far as I feel the need to go.

I no longer relate to that Groucho Marx
joke – vis-à-vis being Korean – wherein one wants fervently to join the
club that will have nothing to do with her. I can change my own ethnic
self-perception, but I can’t change how others see me. And in the
immortal words of Phillip Marlowe in Robert Altman’s 1973 classic, The
Long Goodbye, “It’s okay with me.”

By Twizzle, who still can't get over how much free time she suddenly has!

Comments

Korean-American Identity Redux

I haven’t been feeling very Korean lately. Well, let me clarify: I haven’t had time to give much thought to “being Korean,” engaging in Korean cultural activities, observing Korean holidays or traditions, or hanging out with Korean people. Other than my mom, that is.

With some regret, I have been too busy these past few months to participate in the Kimchi Mamas community – and have been remiss in writing posts, commenting, or even reading. When Kimchi Mamas first started, I was waaaay into the concept. I felt I had found my tribe – at last – for the first time ever, and hungrily ate up every word that was posted, read every comment on the blog, and found myself deeply engaged in every debate and dialogue that came up. It was a new thing for me, after all: hanging with a group of smart Korean American women, many of whom had similar cultural experiences to mine.

Then I got busy. I changed jobs in Sept. ’07 and this new one was so
demanding that I no longer had time to breathe, let alone blog, any
longer. And that’s how it’s been for the past year and four months.
Until last Friday, when I quit my job, and now join the ranks of the
unemployed. I know it’s probably the worst time in more than a decade
to be unemployed, but I felt compelled to “choose life” over the
soul-crushing assignment that I had endured for more than a year. The
job was causing so much stress that I was neglecting my child, my
husband, and my self. It was no good for anybody, and I am pleased with
my decision.

When I go back to read some of my old posts on KM – many of which deal
with issues of Asian-American (and hapa) identity, I realize how much
I’ve changed, and possibly evolved. No longer do I pine for acceptance
as a “real Korean” by the community of Korean-born people whom I
sometimes encounter. No longer do I feel desperately afraid that, once
Halmoni dies, my hapa (quarter Korean) daughter will no longer have a
connection to “the old country.” I no longer wish to be 100% Korean, or
wish I were born there, so that Koreans will consider me to be
authentic.

The fact is, I have come to be quite happy with who I am -- a hapa
Korean-American woman -- and know that nothing can change that. Most
assuredly, I’ll never be considered a “real Korean” by most Korean-born
people, including my mother, as the definition of such a person has
quite narrow parameters; however, I don’t care! I actually feel more
of a kinship with Barack Obama (a biracial person) than I do with many
Korean Koreans!

My daughter, who’s now old enough to be interested in culture, national
origin, and ethnicity, is proud to say that she’s Korean, Scottish,
Canadian, American, and a Californian. And Halmoni’s omnipresence
in my daughter’s life provides constant exposure to Korean traditions,
foods, and culture -- the exact same stuff I got as a kid.

Don't get me wrong: I do appreciate things Korean and very much want to be connected to my culture and ancestry. In the future, I’d like to make more of an effort to pay attention to
Korean holidays, like Lunar New Year, Chuseok, among others; but that’s
about as far as I feel the need to go.

I no longer relate to that Groucho Marx
joke – vis-à-vis being Korean – wherein one wants fervently to join the
club that will have nothing to do with her. I can change my own ethnic
self-perception, but I can’t change how others see me. And in the
immortal words of Phillip Marlowe in Robert Altman’s 1973 classic, The
Long Goodbye, “It’s okay with me.”

By Twizzle, who still can't get over how much free time she suddenly has!

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